


solidarity

by OrsFri



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Humour, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 07:35:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11180052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrsFri/pseuds/OrsFri
Summary: Gilbert is a good bro, who (unwillingly) third-wheels Alfred's flirting attempts as moral support. One thing leads to another, and you know the rest.





	solidarity

**Author's Note:**

> Since they don't share the same nation, I'm just going to assume that they aren't brothers, because similar-looking people exist in reality too. And if these people happen to be couples, well, there is a local slang for this called having "couple face".

Arthur, Gilbert thinks, puts it the best out of all of them when he says, "What the fuck do you even know about ice hockey?"

Alfred screws up his face like a nine-year-old. "I want to show Mattie some support." He stares forlornly at Matthew. "Show some solidarity."

Yong Soo blinks. "What solidarity?" he asks, and Gilbert thinks about whether it's worth the effort to explain the universality of clique behaviour across genders and age.

Arthur sighs. "This," he explains, "is called group solidarity," and rocks his chair back on two legs to knock right into Matthew's ex, causing her to stumble and topple her entire tray of food onto herself. Matthew's ex shrieks. Alfred's face lights up in delight. Yong Soo gapes. Arthur pulls his chair in and smirks like the dickhead he is.

"You guys are so petty," Gilbert complains, but he cackles anyway when Matthew's ex yells at Arthur and Arthur just shrugs. "Hey missy," Gilbert calls after her as she stomps away, "maybe next time, figure out who are the guy's friends before messing with the guy."

"Damn right!" Yong Soo hoots, and fist-bumps Alfred. 

"Fucker thinks she can get away with playing with one of us? No chance," Alfred agrees.

"Oh, she's not getting away with it," Arthur promises, "the whole school knows the shit she pulls."

"I made sure," Gilbert assures, grinning. "And you know how loud I can be."

"Aw, guys, you totally touched my heart."

"But that doesn't mean we will watch ice hockey with you," Arthur adds hastily.

Alfred sulks. "What happened to solidarity?"

"It's every man for himself the moment you want us to third-wheel your flirting attempts - which seriously, is pathetic," Gilbert answers as honestly as he can manage. He almost regrets his honesty when Alfred kicks him. Almost.

* * *

In order to compensate for "how you hurt my feelings," as Alfred puts it, Gilbert is forcefully volunteered to take one for the team and accompany Alfred. 

"I don't even feel sorry," Gilbert complains, "why must I come?" He rolls down the sleeves of his jacket as he steps into the stadium. "I don't _want_ to make up to you."

"Same reason as why you got out of the house and meet me here even though you can totally bail out," Alfred replies smugly, "honour and  _solidarity."_

"Honour can eat shit for all I care - what has it ever given anyone?"

"Moral superiority."

Gilbert pauses. "That is a fair point," he concedes.

Alfred snorts and drags him to the seats around the rink; They choose one far enough that they can see the entire rink, but close enough that when they wave, Matthew can definitely see them. 

 _Matthew,_ meanwhile, is listening to a final pep talk from his captain. When he catches their eyes, he detaches slightly from his team and waves.

Alfred stands up and waves enthusiastically back with both arms - which, even for Gilbert, is too much (especially when you have a crush on said person). 

He points it out, and Alfred immediately defends himself. "You do that to Ludwig too!"

"I did not!" Gilbert protests. "I sat and waved enthusiastically with one arm!"

"What about that time Yong Soo's band held a concert?"

"We were in a group," Gilbert reminds. "And I did mock-hearts. Mock-hearts are funny when used with good friends. Or at concerts."

"Mock-hearts are what suburban dads do," some boy sitting behind them comments. "You know, the kind that makes dad jokes."

"Hardy ha ha," says Gilbert, "someone's obviously not fun at parties."

" _Ooooh_. That's harsh," Alfred adds, "but true."

The boy sputters indignantly, but then Matthew's team starts chorusing their team tagline, and Gilbert stops paying heed to the conversation.

* * *

Ice hockey is a greatly violent contact sports, which means that people with absolutely _no idea_ how to play the game can also enjoy watching other people violently go against each other.

Alfred ends up literally on the edge of his seat, eyes darting as he watches Matthew, roaring every time their team scores and roaring even louder in frustration when the other school scores. Gilbert, though - Gilbert's mind wanders, after they failed to break the tie when the opponent's goalie block the puck again.

He's halfway through imagining how their goalie can just buy a transformers mask and lightly modify their gear to create a Transformers outfit, when Alfred suddenly clutches his arm and hisses, "The enemy is about to score!"

"You're fucking dramatic," Gilbert retorts, but he does catch the moment when the puck sails across the ice in a vicious shot, and there is this horrifying moment of suspense when it seems that the opposing team will be the one to break the stalemate, when their goalie slides over and blocks the puck.

Alfred cheers right beside Gilbert's ear.

Gilbert leaps away from Alfred.

"Shit, I'm sorry." But Alfred's attention remains on Gilbert for barely two seconds before switching back to the rink. Matthew pats the goalie on his back and skates off again, swift and confident and blooming with determination, and Gilbert supposes he understands, kind of, why Alfred crushes on Matthew.

* * *

After the game, Alfred rushes over and compliments (flirts) with Matthew, leaving Gilbert to stand awkwardly to the side. Then Alfred asks Matthew out for dinner, and Matthew shakes his head and says, _oh, the team already decided to have dinner, but if you would like to join us?_

And that is how Gilbert finds himself hitching a ride on Matthew's car, with Alfred calling shotgun and Gilbert squished at the back with three other hockey players that simply _do not talk._

Although, perhaps that arise from the awkward shared knowledge that all three of them are third-wheels. ( _Does that mean,_ Gilbert's brain yells nervously;  _three third-wheels make a whole wheel?_

 _Shut up,_ Gilbert tells his brain,  _Maths doesn't work that way.)_

Gilbert gets the door seat, which he has thought is a small mercy until Matthew makes a sharp turn and sends the three boys squashing onto Gilbert.

"Sorry," the one right next to him mutters, righting himself. From his distinct build as the tallest _and_ widest boy, Gilbert manages to recognise him as their goalie. (Which raises another question: why will the team let the biggest guy squeeze in _that one car_ that has an extra passenger past standard capacity?)

"Uh yeah, it's fine." It's not fine. Why did Gilbert say he is fine? His leg is losing blood circulation and going completely numb - there is no way he is able to stand after Matthew parks. "Kinda."

"Are we squashing you?" The goalie shifts, exchanging looks with his fellow teammates. "Is this better?"

"Not really," Gilbert admits, and tries to cross his leg without wincing too much.

"Oh, uh." The goalie clears his throat. "If you don't mind, you can sit on me? Justin's car always breaks down, but he still insists on driving, so sometimes when it happens we try to fit the others in by sitting on each other."

"It's true," the other teammate adds. "Patsy and I will offer to sit on each other but we tried that the last time and it turns out we're too tall for Matt's tiny-eff car. I think Patsy suffered a minor concussion."

Gilbert isn't short, but he is still a good two and a half inches shorter than the average player. "I guess?" He kicks at Matthew's seat with his functioning leg. "Oi, slow down."

Matthew apologises and slows down _too slow,_ to the extent that Gilbert thinks he can run _faster_ than Matthew's driving. "The road's deserted," Matthew assures, "it's fine."

"It's a straight road," Gilbert points out. Matthew shrugs.

So Gilbert tries to awkwardly maneuvre himself up onto the goalie's lap while Alfred laughs at him from the front. Gilbert thinks about making a subtle jab to tables turning and the situation occurring to Alfred _and_ Matthew instead, when his semi-numbed leg suddenly gives way and sends him tumbling too hard onto the goalie.

It takes only a split second before his brain registers that he is pretty much straddling the goalie's left thigh.

"Fuck," Gilbert mutters at the exact moment the goalie curves a hand underneath Gilbert's right knee and heaves that leg to hook over the goalie's right knee. The goalie casually straightens up, taking over the space that Gilbert has freed up.

"Is this better?" the goalie asks. Matthew begins stepping up the speed.

"I - yeah," Gilbert grits out. "Thanks. And sorry."

The goalie clears his throat with a dry cough. "No problem."

The rest of the ride is spent trying to avoid too much body contact, and for the first time in his life, Gilbert decides to focus on Alfred's (attempted) flirtatious chattering to distract himself, no matter how cringe-worthy it is.

(That night, Alfred goes home with a spring in his steps and a renewed hope that maybe, _maybe_ the crush is reciprocated. Meanwhile, Gilbert goes home trying to erase every mortifying memory of the night.)


End file.
